A few weeks ago, I had the opportunity to speak with second-year dental hygiene students at Vancouver Island University about my career as a dental therapist. Explaining my role as a public health clinician in First Nations communities generally makes people’s eyes go wide.
"You learn how to clean and smoke SALMON?""You get to ride on HELICOPTERS?!""You get invited to go for sunrise baths on PRIVATE ISLANDS?!"
Yes, this is really my job, and I love sharing about it while encouraging others to consider a path in Dental Therapy.
Before my current role providing care in First Nations communities, I spent my first ten years in private practice in Saskatchewan. Relationships have always been important to me, but the private practice model often challenged that priority. Time was measured in units, productivity was valued above all, and the grind was real. My entire existence was sitting in an operatory, completing treatment plans.
Shifting to public health felt foreign at first—even anxiety-inducing. What if my calendar wasn’t full? What if I spent two hours with a prenatal group and didn’t record a single treatment code? What if I sat reading books with kindergarten children or shared tea with Elders? At first, these questions unsettled me. But as my relationships deepened, I began to understand something crucial—care is not just about what we do. It’s about how we show up. It’s about presence.
This week, our friend Len Pierre from Katzie First Nation shares about the importance of slowing down, being present, and softening into our humanity:
“When I was a youth growing up in my community of Katzie, I always remember my grandmother telling me about the importance of learning to be still. I never fully understood this teaching until I became an adult, which is the beauty of teachings in our culture. They don't always make sense at first, but suddenly and when you least expect it, you will understand what they were trying to teach you.
What I know now is that my grandmother was teaching me that there is a lot to gain from learning to embrace #stillness. When you are still, you become more observant, attentive, tuned in, respectful, and present. When you sit with our elders, you can see that they are the masters of stillness, rooted in the present moment. They don't feel rushed or anxious; they don't seem flustered or in a hurry. And they make us feel at peace when we are around them. We can learn a lot from that.
As younger people, especially in today's fast-paced world, particularly as professionals, we are often addicted to preoccupation with technology, family scheduling, information gathering, and efficiency. We are too busy moving around, trying to appear busy, hardworking, and committed. While those traits are not bad, what we are missing out on is "being" with the people, being with the teachings, being in the moment, which is something significant to miss out on.
When we practice stillness, we gain time, space, meaning, mindfulness, connection, and relaxation—things we often feel we have too little of today. When you are still, you can absorb more teachings.
We can use this teaching by putting away the phone, the laptop, setting aside the agendas, and focusing on the people in front of us rather than the clock on the wall. We can train ourselves to slow things down and let life in. Go and sit with the elders, visit the youth, or spend time with your favorite people for no specific reason. Go and be by the water, touch the land, be present with it. You might find connection, healing, happiness, and stillness.”
Reading Len’s words, I recognize how much this teaching has shaped me—not only in my work but in how I move through the world. I think back to the students at VIU, standing at the threshold of their careers, and I hope they carry this with them. It’s easy to get caught in the momentum of doing, to let busyness define worth. But the real work—the heart of what we do—is in being present.
Stillness isn’t about doing nothing; it’s about making space for what truly matters. When I slow down, I create room for connection, for learning, for healing.
And so, I will do my best to practice this. I will put away the phone, the laptop, the agenda. I will sit with Elders, visit with youth, and spend time with my loved ones with no expectation or urgency. I will go to the water, touch the land, breathe deeply, and just be.
Because in those moments of stillness, I don’t just gain time—I gain meaning.
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